The Way I See It
by solowriter
Summary: Kurt runs into a "cupid" who wants to help him out with his romance. A bump in the head leads him to find his dream boy. Kum/Hevans and Klaine.


Note: This entire fic is based off a music video I watched recently. I won't, however, tell you what that mv was for the sake of the plot and ruining surprises. If you DO know what the music video is, would you be so kind as to not state it in comments and such? That'd be VERY GREAT 3

**The Way I See It**

**Chapter 1 - Cupid**

My name is Kurt Hummel.

I'm sixteen years old, and I'm pretty sure I'm a damn fine looking boy, but sadly my high school is full of idiots that don't understand the concept of "handsome" and are homophobic to the nth degree.

Of course, there are the few wonders that are the exception to that generalization. My friends with me in the McKinley High Glee club are all gracious people that I enjoy the company of. I treasure them above all else in this school.

My dad once told me that I'd find the perfect guy one day; one that accepts me for all I am and can love me to his heart's content. But lately, I've been beginning to doubt those words.

Or maybe my standards are just too high?

Multiple thoughts cross my mind as I stare across the room at the painting hung by a thumbtack on my wall.

A gorgeous, blonde-haired, aquamarine-eyed boy stared back at me.

Art has always been a pleasure of mine. Mercedes was the only friend who knew of my secret hobby, no one else in Glee club knew that I spent my non-Glee time in the art room, in a smock covered with paint.

He's a figment of my imagination. I don't know his name, what he sounds like, how old he is, or where he lives; simply because he does not exist, and was someone I imagined up in a dream.

But, because of him, I can't even think to have interest in any other boy.

I named him "Sam" since Mercedes said he looked like one. She thought he should be a brunette, but blonde was what I saw in my daydreams.

And so the days passed as I continued being without romance.

It was a normal, non-fabulous (except for me) day of school. I was heading for my locker during passing period to swap out my books and maybe check if a single hair on the top of my head was out of line.

There was only a grunted chuckle of warning before I found my face planted into the cold, red steel that was my locker.

"What's the matter, Hummel? Making out with the lockers now since you can't get any action?"

I knew that voice. It belonged to the bane of my existence.

"More action than _you'll_ ever get, Karofsky," I seethed, rubbing my aching cheek with cold fingers. I was prepared to ignore him and his cronies and simply walk away, but the buffoons had surrounded me, and apparently no teacher at this school takes notice when a lone student is surrounded by five significantly buffer large football players.

Karofsky lowered his eyebrows in a glare.

"I think your face is overdue for an appointment with _The Fury_," he said, raising his fist.

"Actually, my face is overdue for a facial. At home. In my room. So if you would excuse me, I'd like to be leaving now so I don't lose any more brains cells speaking with you morons," I replied.

But they wouldn't budge, and I couldn't leave.

I didn't want to admit it, but my fear was starting to kick in. The voice of a goddess-on-earth, however, broke through the tense silence.

"You boys best be stepping away from my boy Kurt, or I swear I'll personally pop all your ear-drums with one scream."

"And then I'll kick you all right where it hurts—and trust me, it WILL hurt. I have five gold medals in ballet, my legs are strong."

Rachel somehow slipped in through the gaps between the football players, then Mercedes simply shoved the rest aside.

"Hi boys. I know Kurt's good looking and all but you should really hold yourselves back from jumping him all at once," said Mercedes, crossing her arms.

Karofsky and Azimio gave their dumb glares at the girls, but Mercedes and Rachel didn't budge.

"Hey, Karofsky, we can't hit _girls_," said one of the other football players. "That just ain't right."

"I know that!" grumbled Karofsky in frustration. "Just—let's go. This is stupid."

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and walked off with his head lowered in annoyance.

"Yeah, you _better_ run!" said Rachel as a final statement.

"Thanks you two," I said with a sigh of relief, "He's been getting worse lately."

"Should we tell Mr. Schue?" asked Rachel, a look of concern on her face.

The funny thing about Rachel was, I had never really been too friendly with her. But then suddenly, a few weeks ago, she became a decent person. I'm pretty sure it was because Finn broke up with her—but that's a whole new story I don't wan to get into.

"No, that'd just be pointless," I replied with an eye roll, "Teachers can't really do much for me."

"Well let's head to class, or we'll be late," said Mercedes, tugging me along, "I don't need another tardy on my record."

The day continued on with more glares and snide remarks from the football team. I knew Mike, Puck, Finn, and Artie were trying their best to get the rest of their teammates off my back, but there was only so much they could do.

I walked out after school somewhat down. There wasn't much else I could feel nowadays—I guess all the bullying was finally getting to me. I wanted to leave with Finn but he had football practice later. At least I knew that none of the team could follow me back home and torment me.

It was a cold late-afternoon. Winter in Ohio was pretty damn chilly. I pulled my scarf closer around me, and was thankful for the thick jacket I had on. My focus was on the ground so that I could make sure I didn't slip on the snowy sidewalk.

I passed by a row of cafes and restaurants. A small coffee shop caught my eye.

It _was_ quite cold, and a cup of warm hot chocolate could probably lift my spirits a bit.

I gave myself a shrug and walked into the shop.

It was a cozy atmosphere. The warmth of the fireplace was welcoming, and there were only five tables in the place. A large, fluffy sofa and love seat were situated in the corner. I went up to the cash register and ordered a medium hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream (screw the calories, I needed the comfort), then took a seat by a small, two-seater table next to a window.

My mind was drifting towards a pleasant day dream. Sam was forming himself in my mind's eye, giving me a warm smile, telling me it'll get better. He was a happy-go-lucky type of person, nothing seemed to faze him.

Then again, he wasn't real.

"One hot chocolate, extra whipped cream."

I blinked out of my pleasant day dream with a slight frown and looked up to see a warm smile and an alluring cup of calorie-filled goodness.

Maybe if Sam didn't exist in my mind, I would have given the waiter boy a second glance. He was quite handsome—a head of curly dark hair, pleasant green eyes, and a particular set of distinctly triangular eyebrows.

The boy sensed my apparent disappointment and set the cup down in front me.

"Everything all right?"

I took the cup in my hands to warm up my cold fingers.

"Yes, fine," I replied.

"You don't seem fine," he said, still smiling politely.

Maybe it was because it was a small coffee shop that he felt allowed to prolong his conversation with me, maybe I just looked really, really depressed, or maybe he believed in "love at first sight."

But he was talking to me, and I didn't want to be talked to. I just wanted to fester in my imaginary world with the imaginary perfect boyfriend I had created in my mind.

"No—it's just school problems. You know the norm; bullies, idiots, people who can't respect one's sexual preferences."

Maybe the referral to my sexuality would make him go away. It tended to ward off most people.

But no, it didn't.

"Oh god, I've totally been there," said the waiter. "It totally sucks. It's nice to meet someone who's been in the same boat as me though."

I probably should have been nicer. I probably should have given him a smile and a thanks, things I would have done if I hadn't been in such an agitated mood—but he had ruined my daydream, and I really just wanted to be left alone.

"Yeah, definitely," I replied, standing up and taking my cup of hot chocolate. "I forgot I have somewhere to be right now—thanks for the drink." I slung my messenger bag back on and walked out of the coffee shop.

If I had turned around, would I have seen a questioning face? A curious face? A hurt face?

It didn't matter; I just wanted to be alone with my dreams again.

The cold winter air once against attacked my red cheeks as I made my way towards home.

I didn't even want to drink my hot chocolate. I hadn't taken a sip of it since the waiter had served it to me.

I saw a child standing outside a Starbucks, looking into the windows. He was very much down-dressed for someone in the winter. He must have been freezing.

I could only guess that he was walking home from school, and wanted something warm to drink but didn't have any left over lunch money for it.

"Hey, kid," I said, walking up to the young boy, "Want some hot chocolate? I swear I haven't taken a single sip."

I pressed the cup into his small fingers. He had on a sweater and long pants, but his head, neck, and hands were lacking a snow hat, scarf, and gloves. I had chills just looking at him.

I reached into my messenger bag and took out a light blue scarf—an extra I had kept in my locker that I had planned to take to goodwill anyways.

"You should really cover yourself up more," I told him, wrapping the scarf around his bare neck, "Or you'll catch pneumonia and die."

The scarf matched his bright blue eyes—which sharply contrasted against his wavy, dark black hair.

I straightened up and started to walk away.

"Hey, mister-"

"Don't worry about it," I said, continuing on my way. I just really wanted to get home.

I only had about ten more minutes to walk. Cross the street at the next block, then turn left, then voila—home.

Right as the light turned green and I was about to cross the street, I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey, mister!"

It was the boy.

"I said don't worry about it," I told him, thinking he had come to give me back my scarf and hot chocolate. "You looked col-"

"I ain't your pity case, boy!"

I took a step back in surprise.

"Um—excuse me?"

"I don't need your scarf or your cocoa. I can't even drink this people stuff!" He walked up to me and pushed the drink back into my hands. "Though, this color is quite nice on me," he said, touching the scarf around his neck. "I might just keep this one."

I was still pretty damn confused about everything. I didn't understand why a mere child was talking to me like this.

"Not as bright as you look, are you?" said the boy, waving his hand in front of my eyes. "Kid, I'm a lot older than you; centuries older, actually."

He jumped into the air to be level with my face…

And _stayed_ there.

As in he was hovering in front of my face, feet definitely not planted on the snowy sidewalk.

"Holy crap!" I shouted, stepping backwards again. "Oh my god…how are you doing that?"

Was I going crazy? I think I'm going crazy. Was my constant wanderings into my daydream world filled with a hunky blonde-headed stud affecting my sanity? Had I fallen asleep at the coffee shop and stepped into a dream world and just haven't woken up yet?

"I'm a demi-god, an entity of romance…or what you humans have deemed as 'cupids,'" he said quite matter-of-factly. "Though we _do_ have the appearance of children we do _not_ carry arrows and wear diapers."

"Okay I am _definitely_ dreaming."

I started to walk away from him. Maybe I could walk right out of this dream.

But he appeared right in front of me again when I turned around.

"It seems like you're having romance problems," said the boy, bright eyes sparkling in interest. "I should know, it's kind of my field of work."

"Nothing a figment of my imagination can solve," I replied, walking around him and crossing the street.

"You're not dreaming," said the boy, "I'm actually a cupid. And I want to…you know, help you!"

"I don't _need_ help from a flying dwarf," I said, "I don't _need_ help from anyone. I just need to _wake up_."

"You know your non-believing is kind of insulting," replied the boy, hovering besides me.

"And your apparent dream-world _existence_ is annoying me," I muttered, trying my best to avoid him.

"Wow, that hurts," he said. He poofed himself directly in front of my face. "You have a demi-god right here saying he wants to give you a favor, and you're not accepting it?"

"Look, I just want to be alone," I said, "If you're going to do me a favor, _go away_."

He held out his tiny hand and pressed it against my forehead. I instantly stopped walking, his strength was enormous.

"Hey, I'm going to give you a favor whether you want it or not. I'm in charge of romance, and with Valentine's Day right around the corner I need to get working."

"Go away!" I shouted, getting peeved at this point. With much effort, I swatted his hand away and walked around him once again.

"Time to make your love life bloom," he said from behind me.

I turned around again to tell him off.

And then—oh god.

What met me was the sensation of a concrete block hitting me square in the face, and the lights in my head going out.

**Chapter 1 – End**

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